


(Re)Living

by wilde_stallyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bestiality, DS, F/M, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Object Insertion, Other, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-08
Updated: 2005-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-04 15:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilde_stallyn/pseuds/wilde_stallyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius takes a walk down memory lane. Or perhaps memory lane takes a walk down him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Re)Living

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [](http://wymsie.livejournal.com/profile)[**wymsie**](http://wymsie.livejournal.com/) for [](http://hp-springsmut.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_springsmut**](http://hp-springsmut.livejournal.com/). Much thanks to [](http://shaychana.livejournal.com/profile)[**shaychana**](http://shaychana.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

Bartemius Crouch scowled down at the blond man sitting proudly erect in his chains as he read out a seemingly endless list of charges. When he reached the end, he turned his glare on the jury.

"Will those members of the jury who believe the accused deserves the suggested sentence of life imprisonment in Azkaban for the afore-mentioned crimes against the Wizarding World please raise their hands?"

Lucius remained outwardly impassive and motionless, but inwardly he felt the tension ease from around his spine when he saw that the majority of hands had not been raised against him. It was closer than he would have liked, but he had won. He held back a smirk as he felt, more than saw, Crouch's glower deepen upon reaching the same conclusion.

"Those in favour of acquittal?"

* * *

Lucius sank down into the dragon hide-upholstered chair in his private study with a heavy sigh and a glass of fire whiskey. His ploy had worked; the spell had done its job and those fools at the Ministry actually believed that he had spent the last ten years under Imperius. Now it was time to undo the alterations and try to regain his place among the elite in this new, depressingly peaceful and Muggle-loving era they had all stumbled into, but first, he most definitely needed a drink.

He downed half the glass on the first swallow. It really was an impressive bit of magic, the Abdosieve. An obscure variation on the pensieve, it actually removed selected memories completely from the caster's mind. Much more effective and precise than conventional memory charms that only block the memory away from the conscious mind, but also far less useful because it could not be used on another person against their will. Lucius had come across it in an old book in the back of the Malfoy library many years ago. He had always known that there was the possibility that he could be captured at some point, so from then on he had made sure to always keep an Abdosieve ready; that way he would be unable to betray his Lord if it came to that. After all, even under torture, one could not reveal what one no longer knew.

Settling the glass on the dark mahogany desktop, he sat back and stared for a moment at the archaic books lining the walls. It really was a rather peculiar feeling, not having all his memories. He knew that he had removed a large portion of his memories and he knew that they had to do with his involvement with the Dark Lord, but he knew nothing of what they contained. When the Aurors had questioned him under Veritaserum, it had been almost as though he could feel the potion trace the outlines of the holes in his memories where the answers should be, but in the end he could only say that he recalled nothing of the time period in question, and just as he had hoped, the jury had interpreted those blanks as proof that he had been so deep under Imperius as to be completely unconscious of the entire war period. That was the thing about Veritaserum -it was not as though it left the subject revealing everything he had ever known about anything; that would have been highly impractical. You needed to know the right questions to ask. Certainly, no one had thought to ask Lucius if his memories were sitting in a stone basin in a hidden chamber off his study.

He rose and went to the bookcase by the fire. He ran his wand along the worn spine of The Complete Genealogy of European Wizarding Aristocracy 1396-1853 and the wall beside him melted away.

The Abdosieve sat on a low table in the middle of the bare, stone chamber. The runes inscribed on the rim were more complicated than those on a common Pensieve, and unlike the silvery thoughts in a Pensieve, the liquid in the Abdosieve was a shimmering, translucent red. This last was Lucius’ own addition to the spell. He had found that by incorporating the blood of the castor in the creation of the Abdosieve, he was able to modify its magical properties so that only the castor could access the stored memories. That way, even if the Aurors had somehow been able to find and gain entrance to the secret room despite it being keyed specifically to the magical signature of the Malfoy bloodline, they would be unable to decipher the contents of the evacuated memories.

Lucius dipped his wand in the basin and raised it to his temple, bringing a glistening strand of memory with it.

It was like a lightning strike to the brain. Lucius fell to his knees, gasping as the magic burned and swirled through his mind, like vinegar in an open wound. He clawed at the stone floor as the world spun around him, and then suddenly he was no longer in this world at all, but in the centre of a whirlwind of indistinguishable images and streams of flashing colour.

The horrible pain was gone and all he could do was gape at the cocoon of colour twisting around him. Then some of the images started to resolve themselves, flashing through him like the pages of a child's flip book made to imitate the movement of a real Wizarding portrait. A series of moments from his childhood that Lucius hadn't even known he had ever remembered; images of a mysterious dark-haired man shrouded in a cloak of the darkest royal blue; glimpses caught from down the long hallways of Malfoy Manor and through the partially closed door of his father's study.

The images were gone as quickly as they had come. When the next hit him, he was catapulted into the scene itself, rather than simply viewing it like a painting behind glass. He was in the parlour in the Manor, and he could see his younger self standing stiffly in the doorway. Sitting by the fire were his father and the man in the cloak. Lucius felt as though his mind was split in two. His twenty-seven year-old self was standing in the middle of the room and was clearly conscious and accessing the scene around him, but he could also feel what his younger self was feeling, and knew what that younger self knew.

It was the summer after his fifth year. He had been looking through the Dark Arts books in the Library when a House-elf informed him that his father required his presence.

"Lucius," his father beckoned, "Come, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Tom Riddle."

Riddle stood and extended a pale, long-fingered hand, and young Lucius realized for the first time that the man's eyes were not the deep, drowning blue he had imagined, but rather, the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood and they were slit-pupilled like a snake's. "You may call me Lord Voldemort."

Young Lucius hesitated a moment, unsure if he was meant to shake the hand or kiss it. In the end, he settled for bowing over it.

"Yes, my lord." He breathed.

Elder Lucius just barely had time to be disgusted with his own childhood discomposure before he was flung out of the scene, through flashes of classmates and Potions notes, and deposited in the corner of the Manor's largest guest bedroom.

A somewhat older version of his teenage self stood by the wardrobe clutching at his glass of wine. Since he left Hogwarts two months ago, Lord Voldemort had taken to inviting him to his suite those evenings when Voldemort was staying at Malfoy Manor. At first, Voldemort had stuck to idle discussion, and Lucius had wondered why on earth this powerful and mysterious Dark wizard would want to spend his evenings questioning him about his interest in Multi-Interphasial Tranfiguration and his favourite musicians and artists. Gradually, their conversations had shifted to the need to consolidate the power of the Wizarding World under the old pure-blood families and stem the incursion of Mudbloods into the Ministry. Lucius had been absolutely enthralled by the descriptions of the world Voldemort wished to create. The two years since their first meeting had seen Voldemort's features become increasingly less human, and more like the snakes he called upon to do his bidding, but this only intensified Lucius' fascination with the man.

That night, rather than summon Lucius to his sitting room, Voldemort had brought him to the bedroom. The older Lucius could feel the boy's heart beating rapidly as the Dark Lord glided across the room to him.

"I can give you what you want, Lucius," he said, raising a gaunt hand to caress the boy's cheek. "I can give you power."

Then Voldemort kissed him and suddenly both Luciuses were drowning – the Lucius of the memory in the first heady rush of infatuation requited; the real Lucius in the phantom feel of a lover's lips he had thought he would never feel again.

Drawing back, Voldemort looked down at him. "Are you mine?"

"Yes, my Lord," young Lucius breathed.

"I am yours," echoed his future self.

Voldemort brought their lips together again in a kiss that was hungrier than the first, more demanding. He drew the young man over to the bed and pushed him back against the headboard.

The real Lucius could only stare as his pale teenage body was slowly unveiled, the Dark Lord undoing each button on the boy's robe with a flick of his wand. When memory-Lucius was down to his underwear, Voldemort sat down beside him on the bed and ran a hand teasingly over the already-hard cock straining against the white fabric. Leaning in to run his tongue along Lucius' collarbone, Voldemort pulled the underwear from the boy's body and wrapped his fingers around Lucius' erection. Voldemort licked and sucked his way down Lucius' chest to capture the hard bud of his right nipple between his teeth. Both Luciuses moaned as Voldemort ran his thumb over the head of memory-Lucius’ cock. Memory-Lucius arched into the contact as Voldemort stroked his cock and bit at his nipple. It wasn't long before the sensations overtook his young body and he came with a shudder.

Voldemort drew back to smirk down at the flushed young man. With a murmured spell, he banished his own clothing, and with another, coated his right hand with a thick lubricant. He spread Lucius' legs and knelt between them. He ran his fingers across the boy's opening, rousing Lucius fully from the afterglow of his orgasm. Lucius gasped as Voldemort slipped a finger inside him, his arse clenching at the invasion.

"Just relax," Voldemort told him, as he added a second finger to the first.

Lucius took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing his body to give in and let Voldemort stretch him open. His eyes snapped back open and he cried out as the fingers found his prostate. Voldemort smiled and eased a third finger past the tight ring of muscle. Lucius whimpered as Voldemort worked his fingers in and out, and then gasped as they left him completely.

Voldemort sat back and coated his cock with the last of the lubricant. Running his hand along the back of the boy's legs he lifted Lucius' feet to rest on his shoulders and let the head of his cock rub against Lucius' pucker.

Lucius let out a strangled moan and clutched at the sheets as Voldemort pushed forward, entering him slowly. Voldemort pause paused to let the boy adjust before thrusting into him hard powerfully into him/swiftly into him.

The real Lucius was reeling reeled from the strange sensations of experiencing the sex solely within his mind. He could clearly feel the chair he had collapsed into at some point curving around his body, but he could also feel the exquisitely painful, amazing feeling of having his Lord's cock inside him for the first time.

Memory-Lucius was moaning continuously between gasps for air as Voldemort hit his prostate with every thrust. He grasped frantically at his own cock, which was quickly hardening again. He arched against the bed as the world narrowed down to the two points of white hot pleasure in his groin and arse. Soon, Lucius was crying out as his second climax rolled over him, nearly washing his mind away as the waves of pleasure broke through him. Somewhere under the storm of sensation, he could feel his arse fill with come as Voldemort reached his own climax with a soft moan.

The elder Lucius had barely begun recovering from the echo of his younger self's orgasm when he was pulled out of that memory, through another flash of indistinguishable images, and deposited in a large stone room he recognized as the audience chamber of the Dark Lord's earliest headquarters.

He was standing by the arched doorway, outside a circle of Death Eaters. They were mostly older men, his father's peers, though some of them had their heirs with them -- stiff looking young men and women trying to hide their nervous curiosity at whatever was unfolding in the centre of the circle. Lucius sneered at a young Bernice Bole who was nervously tapping her wand against her leg. It always disgusted him to be reminded that they had fallen so far as to name women the heirs to pure-blood families.

He stepped forward to see what was going on inside the circle, but stopped short before crossing the line of Death Eaters. His memory self was standing in front of a bubbling cauldron, looking little older than he had in the previous memory. His father stood on his right and slightly behind with an air of pride overlying his usual stoicism. The Dark Lord stood on the other side of the cauldron holding young Lucius' outstretched arm. It was his Marking ceremony.

The real Lucius could feel the anticipation and adoration emanating from his younger self as the Dark Lord began to trace the vague outline of a Dark Mark over and over again on his forearm with his wand. As Voldemort worked his wand over the smooth flesh, he spoke the hissing words of the incantation - an incantation that every Death Eater had heard many times yet could never remember and never repeat so that every potential follower had to come before his Lord to gain his entrance into the fold. With each word, the pattern cut itself deeper into the young man's arm like tiny shards of glass eating away at his skin. The real Lucius clutched at his own arm as the phantom pain ripped through the spot that he knew was now nothing more than a greyish smudge. When Voldemort finished reciting the incantation, and the raw image of the Dark Mark had been carved into the boy's flesh, the Dark Lord plunged Lucius' arm into the thick black potion boiling in the cauldron. Both Luciuses had to bite their lips to keep from screaming as the potion burned the mark into the younger's arm for what, he had thought at the time, would be forever.

After what seemed an eternity, Voldemort pulled Lucius' arm from the cauldron, and drew the pain-dazed young man around the cauldron to stand before him.

"You are mine," he told the boy in a low voice.

Lucius gazed up into his Lord's eyes. "I am yours."

The audience chamber dissolved as quickly as it had surrounded him, and after a few disorienting seconds, the real Lucius found himself in an unfamiliar house. Glancing around, he saw himself hurling curses at a witch in turquoise robes and smiled. Now he recognized the house.

It was his first mission as a Death Eater, as well as the first real armed conflict in what would be a decade-long war. Up until then, the Dark Lord had mainly ordered them to kill full Muggles, ostensibly to see how the Muggle-lovers would react to their little friends being slaughtered, though Lucius rather thought Voldemort just liked killing Muggles. That night though, their Lord had sent them to kill Harriet and Douglas Mitchell, a Mudblood singer and her Squib of a husband. Voldemort wanted the whole Wizarding World to know that it was war, and what better way to do that than to murder one of their most famous celebrities in her own bed?

Douglas had gone quickly; they had surprised him in the kitchen, and being a Squib, there wasn't much he could do against half a dozen Death Eaters. Unfortunately, his screams had given Mrs. Mitchell enough warning to contact the Ministry on her upstairs fire and the Aurors had Apparated to the scene immediately. When the other Death Eaters rushed out to meet the Aurors, Lucius had taken the opportunity to go after the target.

Instead of Apparating out of the house, the silly Mudblood had run to save her precious jewels, and his younger self now had her cornered in the spare bedroom as she frantically tried to open her safe. The real Lucius watched avidly as they traded curses. She was really surprisingly good with a wand for being such a complete twit. She managed to get a good hit on him with a freezing charm to his right leg, but that was easily fixed. In the meantime, he transfigured her knees to jelly and she collapsed to the floor.

He smirked down at her as he pointed his wand at her heart. " _Avada Kedavra._ "

The Killing Curse's green light flashed through the room and the real Lucius was whisked away again, back into the chaos of his unintegrated memories.

This time he landed in Voldemort's throne room, to the immediate and rather bizarre sensation of having a cock in his mouth without actually _having_ a cock in his mouth. He looked up at the silver-encrusted marble throne to see himself naked on his knees in front of it, head bowed over the Dark Lord's erection. Lucius couldn't help but smirk around the feeling of giving head. The throne room was part of the new headquarters Voldemort had moved into about three years after the war had started, and for two solid months after he had the throne installed, Voldemort had insisted they had sex in it.

The Dark Lord had his head thrown back against the Dark Mark carved into the seatback, his hands tangled in memory-Lucius’ hair, obviously on the edge of orgasm. The real Lucius' throat swallowed reflexively around the intangible spill of seed, as Voldemort came with a groan.

Memory-Lucius sat back on his heels and waited for his lover to recover from his climax. Voldemort slowly opened his eyes and smiled down at him

"Stand," Voldemort ordered, rising from the throne himself.

"Come," he said, drawing Lucius down off the raised dais. "I have someone I want you to meet."

"Really?" Lucius replied, wondering who his Lord would choose to introduce him to while they were both naked. A new lover, perhaps?

Voldemort wrapped his arms around Lucius from behind, leaning forward to suck at the spot just below his right ear that always made him moan. Pulling his mouth away, Voldemort let out a string of the harsh hissing Lucius recognized as Parseltongue. There was a hissed reply from behind the throne and Lucius could only stare as the largest snake he had ever seen slithered around the dais.

"This is Nagini," said Voldemort, a trace of amusement in his tone.

The snake sidled up to Lucius, flicking its giant tongue at him to test his scent. Then he gasped and clutched at his lover's arms as that flicking tongue suddenly touched his cock. It felt incredible — light and teasing, and yet almost stinging with its quickness.

The real Lucius let himself slide down the cool marble wall as the ghostly sensations rushed though his body.

Nagini continued to tongue memory-Lucius’ cock until his legs gave out beneath him and Voldemort lowered him to his hands and knees on the marble floor. He just knelt there for a moment, dazed, and then that wonderful tongue began to flutter around his hole. It breached his entrance, tasting his insides and he was soon writhing against the floor.

"Oh god-" he moaned, his breath catching in his throat. "Please…"

"Please what?" Voldemort asked, his voice husky as he watched them on the floor.

"Please, fuck me, my Lord," Lucius begged, staring up at his lover. "Please let me come."

The Dark Lord spoke another series of hisses to the snake and it pulled away from Lucius. Voldemort got down on his knees behind him and quickly summoned his wand and cast the lubricant charm. He entered Lucius slowly, his cock spreading him open in miniscule increments. When he was finally buried to the hilt, Voldemort pulled Lucius' torso up to meet his, and to Lucius' surprise, Nagini began to wrap itself around their upright bodies. The smooth scales of the snake's belly slid along Lucius' aching cock, pulling a long moan from him. Voldemort began to move, not really thrusting, just enough so that his cock was softly massaging Lucius' prostate. Rocking gently between the snake's body and his lover's cock, Lucius came in a white-hot rush of pleasure, his clenching arse bringing Voldemort over the edge with him.

They collapsed together in the cocoon of Nagini's cool, slick body. The real Lucius desperately wished he could join his lover and his younger self as he slumped against the marble wall, but he was pulled out of the memory before he could even finish the thought.

This time, Lucius came out of the cyclone of memories in the Manor ballroom. He grabbed at the nearest solid object to steady himself, and fell flat on his arse as his hand went straight through the shoulder of a remembered guest. He glared up at the offensively intangible woman, and realized he had just fallen through the Italian Minister for Magic's wife. He glanced around and saw that, indeed, most of the important pure-blood families of Europe were represented among the guests seated around the ballroom. Lucius' younger self was standing before an altar at the head of the room with an exquisitely-robed young Narcissa.

It was his wedding day, then. It had taken him nearly as much by surprise at the time as it did now. His father and Mr. Black had arranged for his marriage to Narcissa when he had been a young boy, and he had never really thought much about it; he would do what was expected of him when the time came. She was a few years younger than him, so he had not really known her at school, except to note that she was suitably attractive. Truthfully, he did not really know her much better now after five years of marriage. He knew her sexually, certainly, but they each kept their own counsel outside of the bedroom. She spent her days entertaining the ladies of the Dark Lord's court with inane luncheons, and so long as she stayed out of his way and did not contradict him, he would stay out of hers.

Lucius picked himself up off the floor, smoothed out his robes, and commandeered the nearest empty chair. He watched himself move nonchalantly through the ceremony, as various members of each of their families came forward to perform the traditional rituals and give the couple their blessings. Once memory-Lucius had spoken the final words binding Narcissa to him as his wife and placed the nuptial wreath on her head, the real Lucius rose with rest of the audience as they queued up to give the newlyweds their congratulations and the customary bundles of hawthorn and oak blossom, and was quickly pulled out of the ballroom again by the Abdosieve.

There was no swirl of images this time, just a brief flash of pleasure Lucius attributed to the wedding night. He came to rest in his study, though not the same study he had left behind in the real world - that one would still have belonged to his father at the time.

Lucius was fairly certain he knew what scene _this_ memory would hold. He took a seat in the leather-upholstered chair in the corner to watch the show unfold.

His younger self was sitting at the desk taking notes from the archaic book sitting in front of him, when, just as the real Lucius expected, the Dark Lord Apparated into the room, startling memory-Lucius into dropping his quill and leaving a large ink blot across his parchment.

"My Lord!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet as quickly as he could. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Good afternoon, Lucius," Voldemort replied. "I wanted to offer my congratulations on your marriage."

"Thank you, my Lord," said Lucius, moving around to the front of the desk to stand a polite distance from the Dark Lord. They walked a fine line between being master-and-subject and being lovers, and Lucius could never be quite sure of which they were going to be on any given occasion. "It is unfortunate you were unable to be with us for the ceremony."

Voldemort's thin lips drew back in a smile and Lucius relaxed slightly. "You know as well as I do that I cannot afford to expose myself to that number of potential enemies."

"All too true," Lucius said with a sigh.

"Patience, Lucius. We will have them begging at our feet soon enough. Now come here," Voldemort ordered, drawing him into a kiss. He pushed Lucius back against the desk, pinning him there with his lower body, and reached into his robes.

"I have a wedding gift for you," Voldemort said, as he pulled an ebony cane crowned with the head of a striking snake from beneath his robes. He ran the silver snake head down the side of Lucius' face and leaned in for another kiss. Running his tongue along the roof of Lucius' mouth, he undid the buttons of the younger man's robes with his free hand and pulled them off his shoulders.

Lucius tried to reach up to remove his lover's own robes, but the Dark Lord batted his hands away. Pushing Lucius back onto the desk, Voldemort traced a path along his collarbone with the cane, following it with his mouth. He worked his way slowly down Lucius' chest with fleeting touches of the cane, the tips of the outstretched fangs gently pricking his skin. Lucius gasped as the cool metal grazed his left nipple and Voldemort bit lightly at his right. He squirmed against the desktop as his lover ran the cane down his left side. Voldemort kissed his way down Lucius' stomach, pausing to bite at the edge of his navel. He hooked the waistband of Lucius' underwear on the snake's fangs and pulled them off. He ran the back of the cane's head up the underside of Lucius' hard cock, and then drew away completely.

Voldemort put the cane down on the desk and quickly removed his own clothing. He drew Lucius up and turned him around, bending him over the desk. Undoing the ribbon holding Lucius' hair back, he spread the long, blond tresses over the desktop. He caressed Lucius' shoulders as he leaned forward to kiss the back of his neck.

Lucius moaned as his lover's erection nestled briefly between his buttocks. Voldemort moved his mouth down Lucius' back, kissing and sucking at each vertebra in turn. Finally, he reached the top of Lucius' arse and muttered the lubrication charm, but instead of long, smooth fingers or a warm cock, Lucius felt something hard and slick push past his entrance. His arse clenched down around the unexpected intrusion, and in his chair in the corner, the real Lucius' arse echoed its spasms.

The real Lucius moaned as Voldemort worked the unadorned end of the snake cane in and out of his memory-self's arse. He had never realized how sexy and debauched he looked like that - bent over his desk, impaled by his own wedding gift. He reached into his robes to stroke his own cock, the combined sensations of his hand on his erection and the phantom of the cane raking over the other's prostate sending him arching against the chair’s back.

When he turned his attention back to the scene in front of him, his younger self had reached up to clutch at the edge of the mahogany desktop, and was moaning almost continuously.

Removing the cane from Lucius' arse, Voldemort leaned forward and ran his tongue along the curve of Lucius' ear.

"Are you mine?" he asked softly, pressing his hard cock against Lucius' opening.

"I am yours," Lucius gasped in reply.

He cried out as Voldemort entered him, stretching him wider than the cane had. Voldemort ground into him in a slow, steady rhythm, pushing Lucius' aching cock against the front of the desk. The smooth wood caressed the head of his cock as Voldemort picked up the pace, hitting his prostate with every stroke.

The real Lucius was the first to come, spurting his seed over his hand and the underside of his robes. He collapsed back against the chair as his cock spasmed with the strange feeling of release paired with his younger self's continued arousal. Then memory-Lucius reached his own shuddering climax, throwing the real Lucius even deeper into his orgasmic bliss.

A few more hard thrusts and Voldemort was coming as well, gasping out Lucius' name, and suddenly the memory was gone again, sending the real Lucius reeling through more indecipherable flashes of memory.

He ended up in the sitting room in Narcissa's suite of the Manor. He had to grasp the display cabinet holding her collection of bejewelled daggers to steady himself, his knees still weak from the force of the double orgasms.

Memory-Lucius was seated in one of his wife's excruciatingly floral and hideously uncomfortable chairs, staring intently at the door to her bedroom. Mrs. Black had commandeered the loveseat to spread out her needle-point, as her husband wandered aimlessly around the room, absently fiddling with his daughter's knick-knacks as he went.

Lucius' own father had t passed away the year before. The healers said that he had died of natural causes, but Lucius still suspected that he had been poisoned.

The door opened and Bellatrix stepped out. "You can come in now," she told them and turned back into her sister’s room.

The real Lucius sneered at her – God, how he hated that woman – but he joined the others as they followed her into the bedroom. Narcissa sat in her bed, holding a small bundle to her breast.

"It's a boy," she said, smiling up at them.

Lucius could feel the happiness and pride radiating from his younger self as he went to them and took his son in his arms for the first time.

"Does he have a name yet?" Mr. Black asked.

He had addressed his daughter, but Lucius answered, "Draco. He will be Draco."

The real Lucius smiled down at his son. How he had grown in just a year and a half. His younger self handed the baby back to his wife and he was gone again, back into the whirlwind of the Abdosieve.

It was dark when Lucius materialized in the next memory, but he could hear a woman begging for her child's life. He stiffened when he recognized her voice. The Potter house. No. No, he couldn't be here again. He didn't want this memory back. He wanted to run -- run as far from that house as he could get so he wouldn't have to witness what was about to happen, but his legs refused to move. He could only stare as the Dark Lord told the woman to stand aside.

Only he and Bellatrix had accompanied the Dark Lord that night. Voldemort had wanted this kill for himself, but he had not been fool enough to go in without anyone at his back. They had thought the three of them would surely be more than a match for a Muggle-lover, a Mudblood and a baby.

The father had put up a fair fight, but eventually Bella got in a good Dilaborus Curse, liquefying his joints. He collapsed into a heap on the living room carpet, the disconnected ends of his bones straining against his skin at odd angles. After that, the Killing Curse was a mercy.

Mrs. Potter was waiting for them in the upstairs hallway. She made a valiant effort to protect her child, but she was panicking and it didn't take much for the Dark Lord to disarm her and snap her wand. Voldemort was strangely reluctant to kill her for some reason Lucius couldn't fathom, but she was blocking the doorway to the child's room. She begged him to take her life instead of the baby's, but that was clearly impossible, and Voldemort had eventually been forced to kill her.

Lucius cringed as the Dark Lord approached the baby's crib, aiming his wand to kill his potential nemesis before he could ever become a problem.

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

The green light of the Killing Curse flashed across the room, but when it hit the child, instead of killing him, it exploded in a blinding white flash. When the spots dancing across Lucius' vision cleared, Voldemort was gone; the only thing left of him was a scorch mark on the floor.

Memory-Lucius was paralysed, staring in shock t at the spot the Dark Lord had been standing a moment ago. Bellatrix dragged him from the room, setting fire to the house as she went, but the real Lucius noticed none of this. Something had broken inside him on his lover's death. He screamed curses at anything he could see - the baby, the walls, himself - but this was only a memory and he couldn't affect anything here. He fell to his knees, tears of rage streaming down his face, and was yanked out of the memory.

Glimpses of memories swirled around him faster and faster, until the colours melted together into a cocoon of white light. With a sickening jerk, he was slammed back into his body in the chamber with the Abdosieve. He clutched the stone basin, struggling to keep himself erect. He staggered back into the study and retched in the corner. Collapsing into his chair, he quickly downed the remainder of his whiskey. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to think of absolutely nothing at all.

It was no use; he had his memories back now - too many memories.

After a long moment, Lucius opened his eyes, set a stony expression on his face, and summoned the whisky bottle and a House-elf. 


End file.
